


Give It to Me Louder, Harder

by ADeedWithoutaName



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Belly Swelling, Bondage, Come Inflation, Destiel - Freeform, Gang Bang, Impregnation, M/M, Mind control/breaking, Sastiel - Freeform, Wincest - Freeform, Wincestiel - Freeform, cock growth, dubcon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:55:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24718633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ADeedWithoutaName/pseuds/ADeedWithoutaName
Summary: Heaven is quickly running out of angels. Thankfully, there's a way for one angel to bear a new generation. Castiel has volunteered, and Sam and Dean have been...recruited.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Castiel, Sam Winchester/Castiel, Sam Winchester/Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester/Dean Winchester/Castiel
Comments: 8
Kudos: 157





	Give It to Me Louder, Harder

They'd been in here for a couple hours now, blinked right out of the bunker's library and into easily the most boring prison cell Dean had ever been in...which was impressive, considering how high the bar had been set.

White walls, white ceiling, no seam between them, no visible light source but it was sure as hell coming from somewhere, and Sam probably would've given himself a seizure trying to figure that one out if Dean hadn't redirected him to the bigger problem: there wasn't anything even resembling an exit in here.

Whatever had brought them here had stripped all their weapons and tools off them, so that was a no-go. They spent at least an hour going over every inch of the place, touching, knocking, listening, trying every incantation and code word they could think of. No dice.

"It kinda looks like Heaven," Sam said slowly, squinting up at one of the barely-visible corners. "I mean, definitely feels like their MO."

Dean grunted. After a second, Sam continued.

"Think this might have something to do with Cas?"

"Last I checked, Heaven and Cas ain't got much to do with each other these days, and I think that suits them both just fine," Dean replied, trying out "shave and a haircut" for the eightieth time.

"Yeah, but. I mean. It has been a few days since we last heard from him."

"He's not exactly wet behind the wings anymore, dude, he doesn't have to check in every five minutes."

"Has he taken his turn on Words With Friends yet?" Sam asked. Dean didn't answer.

By the time anything happened, Sam's nerd side had crawled out of its basement and was getting on Dean's last nerve ("Yeah, Sam, I know what white torture is, I watched that documentary with you, remember?"). He was almost relieved when a soft little chime sounded, and a door somehow slid open in the wall.

The two of them turned in unison. There was a woman standing there, with short white hair swept to the side and a gray pantsuit. She had her arms folded behind her back and a calm smile on her face.

It took Dean about half a second to recognize her, even with her hair so different, and when he did, it took even less time for him to boil over.

"You," he snarled, and charged.

He didn't get far. Not even a couple inches. It was like his feet froze to the floor, and the rest of his body along with them. He couldn't say he was surprised, but it just pissed him off even more.

"You know her?" Sam asked. Even without recognizing her, he'd dropped into a fighting stance.

"It's Naomi," Dean spit out. Sam's face immediately smoothed out and his jaw set.

Naomi just smiled.

"Hello, Sam," she greeted. "And Dean. You're both looking well...that's good. I'm glad."

"Cut the bullshit," Dean ground out, hands in fists so tight his knuckles ached. "What d'you want from us? Why the hell did you bring us here?"

Naomi didn't answer right away, looking back and forth between them without moving her head. When she spoke, it was like she hadn't even heard the question.

"Do you know how many angels have died, Dean?" she asked.

He glanced at Sam to see if the subject change made any sense to him, but he was frowning.

"What?" Dean asked. "I don't know, lots. What's that got to do with us?"

"Lots," Naomi repeated, and now there was something almost bitter in her stupid little smile. "Hundreds, Dean. Thousands. We endured for millions of years and now, in the last decade, we've experienced a genocide."

Sam's frown deepened. "Is it...really a genocide if you guys are mostly just killing each other?"

The look Naomi gave him wasn't quite a glare, but it felt like it wanted to be one.

"So that's real sad and all, but again," Dean said. "What's it gotta do with us?"

"Heaven is a unique construct," Naomi went on. Again, like she hadn't even heard him. "More like a living being. We as the Host have a...symbiotic relationship with it, I suppose you could say. We draw our power from it and, in turn, as we tend to it and the souls inside it, it replenishes itself from us. But Heaven was built to run on, at the very least, several hundred angels of differing power levels, ranging all the way from cherub to archangel." She paused. "There are fewer than fifty of us left who reside permanently in Heaven. Most are technicians, caretakers. Low-level drones. To give you an idea of just how dire things are, I'm the most powerful angel in residence."

After a pause during which Dean could practically hear him itching to take notes, Sam started, "So, what's that - "

It was like Heaven itself decided to answer him. The lights dimmed all of a sudden, even though it still wasn't obvious where they were coming from, and a long, echoing groan rattled the fillings in Dean's teeth and the juice in his organs. It just went on and on and on, at a register that almost made him sick, and he couldn't shake the feeling he was listening to the sound of something massive dying. A world ending.

"Oh," Sam said, when it stopped and the lights brightened again.

"Yes," Naomi confirmed, "oh." She looked around. "If Heaven collapses, we have no idea what will happen to us, let alone the billions of souls we house here. We're already having difficulty maintaining certain sections, caring for wide swaths of the saved. We need more angels."

"Think you might be SOL on that one, sweetheart," Dean drawled, pushing past his anxiety about Bobby, his parents, everybody else who'd ever ended up here and deserved it. "Only one who can make angels is God, and I don't know if you've heard, but...he's left the building."

"No," Naomi said, softly, "there's another way."

She seemed to be waiting for them to ask about that. They didn't. She continued after a minute.

"Our Father left a failsafe measure in place, just in case," Naomi said as she "It was never intended to be used, but it is possible for one angel, with the proper preparations and modifications, to bear a large clutch of fledglings. Dozens." She glanced at them. "Sexual reproduction."

There was a very long, very awkward silence. Dean didn't want to, but he found himself saying, "Guessing you're the lucky lady, then."

"Of course not." Naomi gave her head a quick, decisive shake. "We spent many long hours in discussion on this, Dean. We wanted to make sure we chose the perfect candidate. It had to be someone from a strong tier, in order to handle the process with minimal damage. And because of the humiliation and physical discomfort that will doubtless be involved, we decided it should ideally be an angel who had a debt to repay to all of us, and to Heaven. Loyalty to prove."

Dean knew what she was going to say even before she mildly added, "Castiel was more than willing to accept."

"You psycho bitch," Dean snarled. "What'd you do to him? How many power drills did you stick in his brain this time?"

"Before he agreed to the role?" Naomi asked. "None."

"You're lying," Sam said quietly, shaking his head. "He never would've done this on his own."

"It seemed to be a difficult decision for him," Naomi allowed, "but once the situation was explained and I gave him a tour, he understood why it was necessary. And he made it very clear he was doing it for the innocent souls in Heaven, not for us."

Dean looked at Sam, but neither of them said anything.

"You know, I'm surprised at you two," Naomi commented. "I would think that if anybody were going to understand martyrdom, it'd be the Winchesters."

Dean didn't appreciate that. Instead of snarking back, though, he forced himself to ask, "So you didn't Jeffrey Dahmer his skull at all this time around?"

Naomi didn't respond. After a second, Sam snorted softly, shaking his head.

"Nothing ever really changes around here," he stated flatly. "Does it?"

"I only did some work on him," Naomi defended. "And only for his benefit. Castiel was made to be a soldier, not a breeder. I wanted to ease the transition as much as possible, and allow him to enjoy this whole thing as much as he can. After all, we're not trying to cause him pain."

"Jesus," Dean muttered, every muscle in his body tense and angry.

"The changes are temporary. They'll dissolve on their own once the clutch is born."

"Sure they will."

"Why are we here?" Sam cut in, demanding. "You've got Cas. You have to know that if we know about this, we're gonna be about ten times more likely to try and stop you from doing this to him. It's not like we can help with this in any way, or we would, or - "

"Would you like to see him?"

Dean looked at Sam, who was already looking back at him. He looked about as wary as Dean felt.

"Come with me," Naomi instructed. "And don't try anything. You won't get far…but you've probably already figured that out."

She abruptly spun around. What the hell else could they do? They followed her.

Naomi led them out of the room and down an equally white, featureless hallway lined with doors. Dean made himself dizzy trying to figure out where it ended, shook it off. He looked at Sam, the two of them trying silently to figure out some kind of plan, but before, they'd always been able to get out of Heaven because of Castiel's help. Now, who knew what kind of state he was in?

Not that they would've left without him even if he was in a coma. They couldn't leave him to...this. Whatever the hell they were planning for him. Naomi had outlined a lot, but honestly, Dean was still confused and mostly pissed.

Naomi finally stopped in front of a door that, far as Dean could tell, looked exactly like all the others. It wasn't even labeled. She opened it, and brilliant blue-white sunlight poured out.

Dean walked in, making sure he was in front of Sam just in case, as Naomi held the door for them. It actually reminded him a lot of the room Zachariah had hauled him off to a decade ago, where he'd fed him cheeseburgers and tried to get him to say yes to Michael. White, gold accents. There were midnight blue drapes on the walls, a vaulted ceiling with a skylight in it, and that was where the sunshine was coming from.

Sam grabbed Dean's arm, trying to get his attention, but Dean had already noticed the spellwork all over the place. Flowing Enochian script on the walls, concentric circles on the floor. In the middle of it all was some kind of crazy golden geometry, a frame floating without any kind of suspension Dean could see. It was padded with thick white cushions in places, had anchoring rings at all its junctions.

An angel was strapped into it.

They had him bound with cream-colored cords. He was tied at the ankles, knees, waist, a dozen other points. His hips were propped up, his head was down, and he had _wings,_ white feathers with black shafts. Those were tied up too, forcibly spread on either side of him.

His legs were pulled so wide apart his glistening hole was on full display, and his cock and balls were so engorged they were almost purple. A slim cord looped gently around each one pulled them down, angled them out of the way.

Dean knew a little bit about bondage. More than he'd probably admit to if, say, Sam asked him. And he could tell this had all been done with a professional hand, meant to keep the angel comfortable and also perfectly still.

He knew who it was. He just didn't want to believe it. He swallowed hard and painful when Sam rasped out, "Cas?"

"Of course," Naomi confirmed. The door closed behind them, a whisper of hinges. "I told you I was bringing you to see him."

They exploded. In perfect harmony. Dean would be impressed by it later.

"What kinda freaky S-and-M _Penthouse_ bullshit - "

"Why the _fuck_ do you need to have him tied up like a - "

Looking like not a single one of her feathers was out of place, Naomi just stood there, and let them yell themselves out. When they had both fallen silent, chests heaving with exertion and fury, she spoke.

"We've never actually done this before, as I mentioned." Naomi shrugged. "We took a page out of your playbook. We're improvising." She looked past them, at Castiel. "After extensive research, we decided this position was the most conducive to coitus and successful conception. Besides, Castiel's perfectly happy. Would you like to get a closer look?"

Dean almost asked if she had a kink for making them look too, but swallowed the words. _Take it down a notch, Winchester_. Keep calm, keep from pissing her off too much, and they'd have a better chance of getting the whole team out.

They followed Naomi around to the front of the contraption, finally getting a look at Castiel's face. It was him all right, but Dean hadn't really doubted it. Something about the shape of the ass - not that he looked at it all that often or anything. You knew a guy for ten years, you saw his ass a lot. Normal.

Castiel was wearing a white collar with Enochian script stamped into the leather, a cord looped through the ring in the front to keep his head down. There was a ball gag, too. White, of course. Even from this angle, Dean could see the blissful expression on his face, eyes half-lidded and glazed over.

And Dean was definitely going to Hell again, because suddenly all he could think about was how hot this would be in a totally different situation. With someone other than Castiel, obviously. That, too.

"Does he even know what's going on?" Sam asked quietly, disgust dripping from every word. Dean cleared his throat.

"Of course he does." Reaching over, Naomi scratched Castiel's scalp with long nails. Dean's stomach clenched with protectiveness even as a noise that almost sounded like a purr rumbled up out of him. "And he's very happy. Enjoying every moment, in fact."

She took her hand back, folded her arms again, and just stood there. Like she was waiting for something.

Dean had no idea what to do or how to handle this. He wanted to cut through the cords on Castiel, break the frame, but he didn't know how to do any of that without weapons. He wished he could at least get the gag and collar off him, god. Talk to him.

"You bitch," he snarled at Naomi, helplessly. "You fucking crazy, sick...this is so much worse than what you did to him before. I _wish_ he was beating the crap outta me right now. You're all dead because you kept pulling shit like _this_ with each other!" He flung a hand at Castiel. "You deserve it. You deserve to go extinct, all of you. This place deserves to crash and burn."

Even as mad as he was, Dean still had a grip on the handle, hadn't flown off completely yet. He could see Sam out of the corner of his eye, looking at Castiel and all the angel magic surrounding all of them. Maybe he was using that giant throbbing genius brain of his to figure out something Dean had missed. Maybe he'd found the answer to the question that was burning a hole in Dean's head: what were they doing here? What'd Naomi want from them?

Dean had always been good at running his brain at the same time as his mouth. Never mind that it usually meant they were operating separately. She hadn't ripped them up onto her cloud to gloat, there were a lot of angels like that but Naomi wasn't one of them. She knew the two of them. She wouldn't have brought them in, given them access to Castiel, without really, really needing something from them.

What, did she want to knock them up with baby angels, too? Dean didn't feel like he had the hips for that.

He ran out of insults, eventually. Sam didn't offer up any solutions, and Naomi didn't say anything, so Dean just went for it.

"For the last time. What the hell do you want from us?"

"Something I think you'll enjoy," Naomi responded promptly. "You two are the closest thing we currently have to archangels. You were bred to be the true vessels of the two most powerful, and still have their Grace inside you. We need you to prime the pump, so to speak."

Dean glanced at Sam. Sam frowned.

"What?"

"You'll be the first to have intercourse with Castiel," Naomi clarified.

Dean put his hands out. Sam backed away.

"No. Uh uh. No way."

"We're not doing that."

"You don't have to agree, you know," Naomi said pleasantly, raising her voice to be heard over both of them. "I have the entire power of Heaven behind me. Every surviving angel, Castiel included, wants this just as much as I do. I can make you want it, too. I could make you do it."

"I'd like to see you try," Dean growled.

She just smiled, beatifically, and confirmed again, "I can." She looked at him and Sam both. "But there's always the possibility you might hurt Castiel while you're not acting under your own control. Nothing that can't be healed, but still."

Dean didn't say anything, and neither did Sam.

"I'll make you a deal," Naomi told them. "If you do this willingly, then after everything's said and done, I'll allow you to take Castiel with you back to your bunker. Care for him during the pregnancy. I'm sure he'd far prefer that to staying here in Heaven, with us...which I'm afraid he'll have to if you can't show me that you understand what's at stake here, and that you actually care about him."

Dean seethed. Sam's jaw looked like it was clenched so hard he was about to crack a tooth.

"I'll let you two have a minute to talk it over," Naomi said.

Sam immediately headed for the room's furthest corner, trying not to step on any of the spellwork. Or as much as he could avoid, at least, since there was so much of it and his feet would be huge even without the boots they wore. Dean followed his lead. Once they were as far away from Naomi as they were going to get, not that he imagined either of them thought she couldn't hear them, Dean hissed, "This is blackmail."

"Yeah, no shit," Sam snapped. He waited a beat then, almost like he was marveling at it, said, "I _hate_ her."

"Uh huh. Join the club."

"So." Sam blew out a huge breath, rolled his shoulders, looked at Castiel. Dean saw him bite his lip. "...what d'you think?"

"I don't like it." Dean shook his head, not sure he could offer anything besides the understatement. "I mean...son of a bitch. Can you believe what she wants us to do?" He stomped to indicate the Enochian. "You figure anything out with this?"

Sam shook his head right back. "It's airtight, from what I can tell, but I don't know. I don't recognize a lot of what they've done in here. It's...old, not to mention a lot more complicated than what I'm used to from angelic magic." He looked at Dean. "You probably could've figured that out without me. You know more Enochian than I do."

Dean ground his teeth. "Sure she's got other dicks with wings listening in. Ready to swoop in the second something goes wrong, but...I think our best shot's getting Cas to pop his blade out. Then we go 'Fortunate Son' on Naomi's ass."

Sam took a deep breath, then nodded.

"I think that's a good start," he agreed. "I can't think of anything else, but...Dean. Our best bet to get Cas to give us his blade right now's to go along with this. At least for a little while."

Dean just had to stand there for a second, hoping to figure out a different meaning to Sam's words. When he couldn't, he asked, "D'you realize what you're telling me to do?"

"You think I don't?" Sam answered, an edge in his voice. He sounded brittle, minutes away from snapping. Hearing him like that made something in Dean ache. "You think I don't hate it, too? But this definitely isn't the first time we've done something awful to try and save somebody. And this is the best way to - "

"Sam." A voice, raspy and quiet and pleading, cut him cleanly off. "Dean."

They both turned to look at Castiel, who was looking right back at them. His ball gag was hanging from Naomi's hand, and he was straining against his collar in order to stare at them with eyes like the bottom of a curacao bottle. His mouth was swollen and wet. He dragged white teeth slow across his bottom lip.

"Please," Castiel begged, "fuck me. _Please,_ I need it, you don't understand…"

Dean had never been more ashamed of himself than when he realized his cock was responding. Just a little bit. He could see Sam out of the corner of his eye, refusing to look at Castiel, tip of his nose flushed.

"Fine," Dean growled, hating himself and Sam and Castiel and Naomi and Chuck and the entire fucking universe with every bone in his body right now.

Naomi was regagging Castiel as they walked back over, and he was letting her with pleasure so obvious Dean could just about taste it. She looked up at the two of them.

"Decide on a course of action, then?"

After they glanced at each other, Sam quietly murmured, "We'll do it."

"Wonderful."

Then Naomi was right in front of them, touching two fingers to each forehead.

Dean threw an instinctive right hook, Sam went for what looked like a savage, arm-breaking headbutt, but of course she was yards away before they could even react. Looking so damn pleased with herself, just like always.

"What the fuck did you do to us?!" Dean bellowed it out. "Thought you said you weren't gonna force us!"

"I'm not," Naomi replied. "I didn't do anything at all to your minds, don't worry. But you'll need more than the average human amounts of semen and stamina to do this right. Especially at your ages." She gestured to Castiel like she was offering him up. Not even like a buffet or a new car, either. More like a desk overflowing with paperwork. "Whenever you're ready. You should enjoy at least some of the changes."

"Yeah, I really, really doubt that."

Dean didn't think either of them were really sure what to do. Sam went one way, he went another, they almost bumped into each other. Finally, they walked together around Castiel, until they were staring side by side at his spread wings and legs. His ass. His hole and cock and balls. It was the kinda thing that Dean wouldn't have minded seeing in one of the magazines he went to extreme pains to hide from Sam.

Sam was the first to talk, clearing his throat. "You wanna go first?"

"Why the hell would I wanna go first?"

"'Cause, I mean...he's your best friend."

Dean came real close to making a downright unforgivable wisecrack about Sam needing his big brother to show him the ropes, but managed to keep it to himself. He just took a deep breath and nodded, shaking himself out. He approached Castiel.

Neither of them, Dean suddenly realized, had mentioned anything about being able to get it up for a dude. He'd make a mental note to tease Sam about that later, if he weren't obviously hanging out in a glass house here.

Very, very cautiously, Dean reached out and touched Castiel's hip. He was hot, like fever-hot, verging almost on stove-hot. It was like there was a fire burning under his skin. It was softer and smoother than Dean had expected. Castiel was tied too tight to actively push up against his hand, but he obviously tried. His muscles trembled, and his wings rustled as the feathers on them trembled. His hole even pulsed a bit, an excited little heartbeat twitch.

Dean swallowed. His cock was already pounding, despite the fact it'd usually take more than this to get his engine going, especially in this kind of situation. It was like he was fifteen again and popping boners at the drop of a hat. He put his other hand on Castiel, holding him, just trying to steady himself. He looked at Castiel's spine, those slim little hips, the broad muscles in his back, the downy drifts of snowy feathers where his wings met his body. They ran all the way down his spine, getting sparser, tapering out in the small of his back. Kinda weird. Kinda cool.

Dean looked lower, at Castiel's hole. It was really pulsing now, since he'd put his other hand down. And...god, he really kinda had a nice-looking cock, didn't he? Not crazy long or anything, maybe just shy of six inches, but it definitely made up for it in girth. Veins throbbed up and down the length. Dean could see his heartbeat in them.

He wondered if it'd help if he touched Castiel's dick, or if it'd just make things worse. He really wanted to touch it. Or maybe play with his balls. But...fuck this, he needed to get it all over with soon as possible. Get to a point he could make Castiel give him his blade.

Dean had been expecting Castiel to be locked up like a bank vault. He doubted Jimmy Novak had been riding a bunch of dicks in his free time. But when he put a thumb on the lip of Castiel's hole and pushed, already thinking about asking Naomi for KY because there was no way he was going spit-and-courage on this one, the hot little pucker sucked him right in. Castiel clenched tight around the base of Dean's thumb once he was inside, and he was _wet_ , boiling hot, insides rippling needily.

Castiel moaned, muffled by the ball gag, higher-pitched than anything else Dean had ever heard from him before, and Dean suddenly realized Sam was watching him.

"You mind?" he snapped. It came out harsher than he meant. Sam cleared his throat awkwardly, turning his back on him, and Dean's focus slid to Naomi, who was just standing there with a little smile on her face. "And what the hell's so funny?"

"Nothing," Naomi responded, shaking her head.

Dean focused on Castiel. Not like it was tough. He pulled his thumb out with an obscene _pop_ and a whiny complaining noise from Castiel, and had to bite the inside of his cheek hard enough he tasted blood to keep his kneejerk dirty talk from kicking in. His jeans were so tight they literally hurt, cutting into him like a ziptie across his crotch. He fumbled his belt open, getting smears of Castiel all over the leather he was sure, then his fly, and then his cock flopped heavy into his hands.

"Son of a bitch."

It was huge. Way bigger than it'd ever been before, even on his horniest, craziest, most blue-ballsiest day, and it wasn't even fully hard yet. He could see it growing as he watched, eight inches now, easy, thick around as the handle of a baseball bat, then nine, throbbing and twitching…

Sam swore, too, and Dean couldn't even be mad at him for looking again.

"I thought it might be helpful," Naomi said mildly.

Dean had to close his eyes for a second, huff a few quick breaths in and out.

"Get rid of Cockzilla," he told Naomi, voice rough. "He can't take this." He shook his head at Castiel. "Whole point's so we don't hurt him, right?"

"You won't hurt him. He can take it." Apparently sensing Dean's skepticism, Naomi offered up, "Trust me."

Dean had to laugh at that one. But he and Sam were in Heaven, weaponless, Castiel tied up and dosed stupid with bimbo brain surgery or whatever, and much as he hated it, he didn't really have a whole lot of other options. So he stroked himself until he was fully hard. It didn't take long.

It was past the biggest cock he'd ever seen now. Had to be over twelve inches, thick as his wrist easy. It had his familiar curve, his head, everything he was used to seeing, just...fucking massive, and blushing an almost angry red. His balls had grown, too, feeling heavy where they hung between his legs. Time to be ashamed of himself again, because...part of him was over the moon about it.

He was pretty sure he wasn't even gonna be able to get it in, but he lined himself up anyway, one hand supporting the weight of this insane monster of a cock he had now, the other on Castiel's back, feeling a couple of those little white feathers. He pushed, and Castiel parted for him like butter, ass just eating him up. It was slick and tight and fluttered frantically around him, like Castiel _needed_ him inside, _needed_ Dean's impossible girth as far up inside him as it would go.

Castiel was crying out as Dean slid deeper and deeper, groaning, whining in the back of his throat, making muffled little bird-noises that were somehow sexy. His wings strained against their cords, every feather spread wide, a faint pink bloom to them all over where they were flushed with blood. He sounded so pleased to finally be filled.

Dean kept expecting to have to stop. If he came up against any kind of resistance, he wasn't pushing. Not with this beast. But he just kept going and going and going, Castiel drawing him greedily in, a long, slow, easy slide until he bottomed out with his engorged balls resting right against the ass he was splitting in two. It felt like Castiel was fucking made to take a cock this size.

Almost without thinking, he reached underneath Castiel, going for his dick. He couldn't reach it from here, with the way it was pulled back. Probably the point. He had to palm his stomach, flat but not chiseled, a wiry patch of hair that narrowed up to his belly button. He felt the cords around his waist, the padded edges of the frame pressing into his hipbones. And, more importantly than anything else, Dean could feel the shape of his cock inside Castiel. Stretching him out, making a perfect impression from within. He could practically count every vein on the damn thing with his fingers, could jerk himself off from the outside like Castiel wasn't anything but a condom. A sock. A sleeve.

He groaned. So did Castiel.

Dean felt a flicker of guilt a second later. He really wasn't supposed to be enjoying this. But it was washed away in a flood of white-hot pleasure a second after that.

"Feels good to be inside you," he whispered. He couldn't help it. Castiel probably couldn't even hear it, anyway.

"Shouldn't you start moving, then?"

Dean didn't jump at the sound of Naomi's voice exactly, because there was no way she'd snuck up on him or anything, but there was some jerking that got a delicious little shiver out of Castiel. When Dean looked up, Naomi was framed between Castiel's wings, readily meeting Dean's eyes.

"There's supposed to be movement, isn't there?" she asked, cocking her head. It made her look a lot like Castiel, and Dean really hated that.

"Y-yeah, but it'd be a whole lot easier without you freaking staring at me," Dean snapped back. He expected to feel himself wilting, but no, Cockzilla was holding strong.

"Castiel was one of my charges for millennia," Naomi replied. Her hand moved, she was touching his scalp. "Now, he is again. I want to make sure you do this properly."

Dean's face was burning, hot as Castiel's skin, and he glanced at Sam, big hands clasped awkwardly in front of his groin for some reason.

_Do it for him._

He looked down at Castiel, all the little feathers standing on end and pink in the middle.

_Do it for them._

He squeezed his eyes shut tight, cocked his hips back half an inch, drew a breathless little gasp of pleasure from Castiel. Dean tried to imagine they were back at the bunker as he started looking for a rhythm. In his room, or Castiel's...nah, definitely his, because he'd installed a dimmer switch. They'd just been out to a movie, or watched something on Netflix, something Castiel would like. They'd had some pizza, some beer, gotten to a point where they were both loose and flushed, and never mind Castiel was an angel and beer didn't have that effect on him, maybe he'd turned off the freakishly-high tolerance for a night with Dean. He'd slipped out of the trench coat. Dean had helped him with the tie, the shirt. They'd both started laughing as they fumbled, and then they kissed, and Castiel tasted so damn good, and…

With his eyes closed, Dean could almost believe that this was a totally new fantasy that he had never, ever called up before.

But he had to open them again before too long, because he just couldn't stand not looking at Castiel. Even tied up and slutted out, real him was worlds better than imaginary him. Dean focused on the clean lines of his back, the black-and-white-and-faintly-pink spread of his wings, and tried not to think about Naomi, whose eyes were bearing down on him like a lead weight. Sam was obviously watching him again, too, but he cared way less about that.

He should've been caring about the blade. Castiel's blade. Getting him to give it to him. But he wasn't.

God, those were nice wings. Dean hadn't ever really thought of wings as sexy before, but sliding in and out of Castiel in a steady pumping motion, power to it now, he just wanted to bury his hands in them. Nuzzle into the feathers. Suck hickeys in between them.

Castiel was so easy to fuck. So wet. So damn ready for it. Dean got the feeling he would have been grinding back against him, fucking himself on this obscene cock, if he hadn't been tied up. He could feel the blazing little button of Castiel's prostate every time he rammed into it and then glided on over it, because he was aiming for it on every stroke. He liked the noise he made when he hit it. Liked how he tried to jump.

"Good, good," Naomi encouraged. "Maybe a little deeper. We want as much to catch as possible."

"Shut up," Dean grunted.

He put a hand on Castiel's belly again, felt himself rippling back and forth inside him. He closed up again so good after he was gone. It was gonna take a lot to stretch him out. Dean went harder, changed his angle, pistoned deeper and deeper into Castiel. His hands were locked on his hips as he plowed him.

"Sam," Naomi spoke up, a note of admonishment in her voice, "try to save your seed for inside Castiel."

Dean glanced over to see Sam, beet-red, rapidly turning away from him. He still caught a glimpse of his cock in his hand though, and for a second, thought he'd found some kind of weapon - it was even bigger than Dean's. He'd been jerking off to Dean fucking Castiel while he was tied up and completely out of it.

Dean chalked up how hot he actually found that to the heat of the moment.

Sam's cock was practically imprinted on Dean's mind now, while he screwed Castiel's brains out. Not like he hadn't ever seen it before, but it was different now. Long, thick, an almost elegant curve to it, dusky shaft and rosy head. Long string of syrupy precome drooling out of his slit, hand wrapped around the base. Had he had it all the way around? Maybe he hadn't. Maybe it was too big.

"Bet you're gonna love taking that thing," Dean told Castiel. The words just fell out of him. "Gonna...gonna bite right through that gag and _scream,_ huh? Do that for Sammy?"

Castiel shuddered. Dean realized he was getting close, was honestly kind of surprised it'd taken him this long. He put one hand on Castiel's stomach again, head of his cock battering against his own palm through Castiel's skin, and the orgasm just built and built and built. An inferno. The skin on Dean's face tingled, and his mouth fell open as he panted, vision getting blurry around the edges.

He was good at staying quiet. Jerking off three feet away from your sleeping brother in a cramped motel room would do that to you. But there was no way in hell he could keep this in.

Dean shouted at the top of his lungs when the full force of his climax finally slammed into him, like a semi truck doing ninety-five through an intersection. Waves of lightning-colored pleasure crashed down his spine and right into his dick, spurting out of him. And it just kept going. He kept thrusting through it, couldn't have stopped now if he wanted to. He stared senselessly at Castiel's wings in front of him. He knew what they were, but he wasn't really seeing them, pretty much every brain cell he had going into the best goddamn orgasm anybody, anywhere, had ever experienced in all of human history.

Dean had almost forgotten his hand was still on Castiel's stomach as he bucked wildly in and out of him. Until he felt it start to swell. A thought about him getting spontaneously angel-pregnant flashed wildly through Dean's thoughts, which were pretty much swirling around inside his head like the lights off a disco ball right now, until he realized what was actually going on.

It was come. He was filling him up with so much come his belly was literally inflating with it.

Made sense, considering how long this thing was lasting. How he could feel his balls just pumping away, shrinking with every spurt Castiel's ass wrung out of Dean's cock.

He had no idea how long it actually lasted. Ten minutes? Fifteen? That seemed impossible, but it'd been _long._ Dean started slowly seeping back into himself as it ebbed, vision pulsing with aftershocks. He could feel his dick going soft inside Castiel, realized he was leaning heavily against him. He pulled out, then staggered backwards, knees loose and watery, entire body laced with the worst post-nut shakes he'd ever had. He would've landed right on his ass if Sam hadn't caught him.

Speaking of his ass, Dean could feel Sam's cock against it. Something in his stomach and dick pulsed weakly before Sam angled his hips back and took it away.

A second later, a chair (white, functional) popped into being a foot away from Dean. He saw it out of the corner of his eye. Sam lowered him carefully into it, and Dean went, legs sprawling out and head flopping back bonelessly. He groaned.

That was the best sex he'd had in months. Years.

And he oughta be hating himself for enjoying that, especially with the after-orgasm clarity that usually socked him like a ton of buzzkill bricks, but he wasn't.

"What's wrong with Castiel?" Sam asked quietly, his hand coming down on Dean's shoulder and giving him a squeeze.

That penetrated the soft golden haze Dean was floating through. He lifted his head, blinking at Castiel, who was whimpering and straining. Naomi had taken up a supervisory position a few yards away, observing.

And now here the negative feelings came. Still no self-loathing, though. Just worry, anger, protectiveness, old friends he really didn't even mind having around.

Naomi looked at Sam, confused at first, but then answered, "His vessel wants to produce an orgasm, but it can't."

"Why the hell not?" Dean rasped out. His sex-voice made it sound like he'd been breathing broken whiskey bottles.

"It's being prevented." Naomi half-waved a hand at the cords around his cock and balls.

"Why?"

"It's not necessary. Any expenditure of energy that isn't directly related to conception might harm the process."

And there went the last of Dean's afterglow, burnt up in a steady flare of rage. He grunted, going to sling himself out of the chair, and only made it up onto his feet with Sam's help.

"Whoa, hey."

"Gotta check him," Dean muttered back. Something he probably should've done very first.

Just like Dean had thought earlier, Castiel had been tied up by somebody who knew what they were doing. Circulation was good, he had a heartbeat in everything still (including his wings). He just couldn't come. His cock was purple and throbbing, a pathetically-thin stream of silvery precome dribbling out all the way to the floor, where it'd puddled underneath him.

Sam went to untie him, since Dean's hands were shaky. Naomi stopped him with an authoritative, "Don't."

Dean glared at her. "You're gonna make us do this to him and you're not even gonna let him fucking come?" He could so not believe he was having this conversation.

Naomi shook her head, rolling her eyes. "I suppose...if it really means that much to you...he can be allowed to 'come' once everything is said and done."

"I'd say you really need to get laid, but I know Crowley fucked you." Anger and endorphins had made Dean's mouth even looser than usual. "I'm guessing you couldn't have gotten a happy ending outta him even if you'd drawn him a map."

Naomi's lips thinned almost imperceptibly, and Sam grabbed Dean's arm to squeeze it in a warning.

Dean was ready for whatever she was gonna throw at him, but all she said was, "It's Sam's turn now. From the looks of things, he's more than ready."

Sure enough, when Dean glanced down, Sam still had his cock out. His massive, unbelievable, magic-enhanced cock. It got a little darker even as he was staring at it, and a quick look at Sam's face revealed it was a full-body blush.

Sam was looking back at him. Dean wasn't sure why as he headed back to the chair, still feeling like at least half his bones were made of Jell-O, and lowered himself carefully into it. It was like Sam was waiting for permission or something.

A second later, Dean realized, and grabbed Sam's wrist, leaning in.

"I didn't get his blade," he hissed in his ear. When he'd pulled back, Sam's face had cleared, blush fading.

"I'll do it," he promised. "I got it."

So Dean cleared his throat, and waved a hand at Castiel. "Go right ahead."

It occurred to him right after he said it that maybe he shouldn't have, but Sam didn't seem bothered at all, touching Castiel gently. Castiel shivered so hard Dean heard his wings rustling. He whined through his gag.

Dean could see his hole. It'd sealed back up perfectly, even though Dean would have thought he'd have destroyed it with the cock Naomi had given him, gravity doing a good job of keeping everything inside. He could see Castiel's stomach, too. Visibly swollen with the come Dean had just dumped into him. Looking at him, and looking at Sam lining himself up and taking deep breaths, Dean felt a twitch from his spent dick.

He would have thought he'd be good for the rest of the day, if not longer, after an orgasm like the one he'd just had. There wasn't any shame in it, man got to be a certain age and that kind of thing happened. But sure enough, when Dean glanced down at his groin, the dick that'd shrunk back down to its normal flaccid size was perking back up. Growing again. He wasn't even sensitive, didn't have any kind of ache in his balls or prostate.

This must be what Naomi had meant when she'd brought up higher-than-average stamina.

Sam's cock looked even bigger than it had before when he pressed it against Castiel's entrance, started easing himself in. Dean could tell he hadn't been expecting what he felt like inside by the electric look of surprised pleasure on his face. Guilt flashed through the expression, but it didn't stick around long as he seated himself, filling Castiel. Even with how bloated he was from the come, Dean could still see Sam's cock in him once he'd bottomed out, the head stretching the skin right under his ribcage.

It was incredible, the way Castiel took it, inch after thick inch of Sam just disappearing into him with no problem. He begged for it, actually. Same as he had with Dean. As Sam started to move his hips in tiny, gentle thrusts, obviously trying to keep himself under control, Dean couldn't stop thinking about the fact he was in a hole Dean had already fucked. He could probably feel all that come around him, a hot, silky ripple on his dick, a creamy ocean that sloshed back and forth with every thrust. They were both gonna have fucked an angel. Knocked an angel up. Even right after they finished, it was gonna be obvious how good they'd done him, because Castiel was gonna have a gallon of come up his ass and jiggling around in his stretched-out stomach.

Dean had to wrap a hand around his shaft as he reached his full length, all twelve pulsing inches. Sam had jerked off to him fucking Castiel, he owed Dean one. He wished he had lube or lotion or hell, he would've used motor oil at this point, he was gonna be raw enough to give Gordon Ramsay an aneurysm after this, but there was no way he could stop himself as he watched Sam's movements start to pick up power and speed. Sam fucked Castiel like a machine, perfect pistoning rhythm. His pants had fallen around his ankles so Dean could see his ass, his thighs, all that lean, sculpted muscle, the meaty weight of his swinging balls…

"You're going to need that in a moment," Naomi murmured, much closer than Dean had thought she was. At least he was way too into Sam and Castiel this time to jump.

"Fuck off," he grunted automatically, realizing as she moved away that she'd been talking about his boner. She wanted him to fuck Castiel again? That wasn't part of the deal, but then again, it wasn't like they'd thought to hammer out any concrete details. He wouldn't, he'd done his part. They got to leave soon as Sam popped his cork.

Never mind Dean kinda wanted to go another round, as he stroked up and down his cock, precome spurting out of his head with every jerk and making the glide smooth and easy. What would it feel like? A hole that'd been stretched out by Sam's girth? One full of however much come those enormous balls managed to churn out?

For a while, there wasn't anything but the slap of skin on skin, Sam's gasps and grunts, Castiel's little cries, and the sounds Dean was making. Then Naomi had to go and talk again, of course.

"Sam's approaching his climax," she murmured.

"Uh huh." Dean could tell. He was getting a little faster, more erratic, thrusts kind of stuttering on the way in.

"I want to maximize his output. Just to increase our chances." Naomi paused. "Go and stimulate his prostate."

Dean stopped beating his meat, just for a second, and turned to squint up at her. That had to be the least sexy way anybody had ever told him to put a finger up an ass...especially Sam's.

Dean's first instinct was to refuse. Sure, they'd been smashing all kinds of boundaries he really would have rather stayed intact today, but that was a whole other line being crossed right there. Instead, Dean looked at Sam. And Sam looked back at him, sweaty, panting, hair flying, the absolute hottest thing Dean had ever seen, hands down. He nodded, muscles in his neck standing out as he put his entire body into fucking Castiel.

"Go ahead," Sam panted roughly.

Dean got up, dick bobbing. He wouldn't think too hard about this. Sam would probably want to talk it to death once they weren't all under the boot of the Angel Thought Police, but that'd come later, and he'd deal with it then.

For now...for now, shit. He realized he was gonna enjoy this.

Also, he could remind Sam to get Castiel's blade while he was up there.

Sam grunted a little before Dean reached him, twitching. When Dean touched him, he realized that'd been a reaction to the lube that'd somehow found its way instantly up his ass. He put one hand on Sam's hip to try and keep him sort of steady even as he kept thrusting into Castiel, and got a finger inside him. It was way easier than he'd expected it to be. Sam's prostate, when he found it, was swollen and obvious, full of heat and his racing pulse.

Dean crooked his finger expertly against it. He'd done this a few times, knew how to find the sweet spots, and he must have gotten lucky with Sam on the first try, based on the noise he made. It must have made him do something to Castiel too, who reacted with a delighted little gasp.

Dean took a knee behind Sam to get a better angle. He fed another finger into him, a third. It was a little hard to stay inside him while he was giving it to Castiel, but he matched his rhythm pretty quick. He could literally feel Sam's orgasm building from the inside out, and god, if that wasn't insanely hot. Dean rubbed at him with the callused pads of three fingers, and caught his balls with his other hand, fondling them. They were so huge and heavy and hot with come the whole sack didn't even fit in his hand.

"You like that?" Dean asked Sam. "Me playing with your ass while you're fucking Castiel? While you're putting babies in an angel, in Heaven? You like your big brother's fingers up your ass?"

He really hadn't meant to say any of that, but above him, Sam and Castiel let out almost identical moans, and Dean's cock drooled precome onto the white floor between his legs. He kissed one of the firm globes of Sam's ass, licked, nipped. He tasted like salt and pine needles.

"Hold on, Sam," Naomi instructed. "Dean." Mouth on Sam's ass, he cut his eyes to her. "I'm not sure fingers will be enough."

This time, Dean didn't even hesitate. He was on his feet in an instant, fingers ripped out of Sam's hole, and when Sam gasped shakily, Dean immediately replaced them with his cock. Sam took him every bit as good as Castiel had.

He fucked Sam into their angel, adding his strength to Sam's, piledriving onto his prostate with the head of his cock as hard as he could manage. He wasn't worried about hurting Sam. He knew he could take it. Sam was begging for it, actually, grinding savagely against Dean the same way Dean had been sure Castiel would have if he hadn't been trussed up like a turkey. He had both hands on Sam's shoulders for leverage, and together, they were shaking Castiel's frame, the cords that held him humming like guitar strings.

"G-gonna come," Sam ground out. Dean had already figured; he could feel him clenching around him.

"Fuck yeah you are," Dean panted against his neck. "Give it to him. All you got, Sammy, he wants it, he wants it so bad, just fucking listen to him."

Castiel was whining. Dean could swear his wings were glowing. And Sam started to pump, Dean feeling him as he spilled inside Castiel, gushed like a broken fire hydrant. He kept him moving through it, and he kept hitting him from the inside, kept on milking it out of him like he'd been told to. Just like him, Sam just went, stretching out over long minutes, yelling and shaking, heartbeat going crazy around where Dean's cock was snug in his ass.

Sam collapsed as soon as it was over, went down as dead weight. Dean caught him and pulled out. He hadn't finished, but it wasn't like he was gonna let Sam hit the floor and keep fucking him down there. Not to mention he didn't know what magic giant cock come would actually do to him.

Dean steered Sam over to the chair, grunting. Totally limp like this, pupils blown wide and head lolling on his neck, he weighed about four hundred pounds, and of course Naomi wasn't any help at all. He lowered him gently, not wanting to dump him onto an ass that'd probably be sore for weeks, then bent down to check. Sam's mouth was open and he was breathing deep, not looking like he was aware of anything going on around him at all, but he clung automatically to Dean. He was a cuddler. No big surprise there. Dean went to perch awkwardly on the arm of the chair, figuring he should make sure he was okay, but Naomi stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

He looked down at it, then up at her. A second later, she let go of him.

"You're still hard," she pointed out. "Your turn on Castiel."

"In a minute."

"Your brother will be fine." A second later, when Dean hadn't budged, she assured, "Sam will be fine. Here…" She gestured him up, and then the chair moved. "There. Now you can easily keep an eye on him while you tend to Castiel."

Sam blinked lazily at Dean. He obviously wasn't going anywhere. Dean looked from him to Castiel, all bright wings and flushed skin and dripping cock, and sighed.

"Okay."

The first thing Dean noticed when he got up close was Castiel's belly. With Sam's come in him, it was more than twice as big as it'd been before, wobbling a little even though he was hardly moving at all. Dean touched it and it felt like a half-filled water balloon.

"You like this, don't you?" he murmured to Castiel. "Being our little come balloon. Fucking swelling up with it."

Castiel made a noise halfway between a purr and a trill. Electricity crackled up Dean's spine, and he got in position.

He managed to fuck Castiel twice more. Sam managed three times. Afterwards, they were collapsed in the chair together, which had turned into more of a loveseat to accommodate both of them, leaning on each other.

Neither of them mentioned the blade.

Sam reeked of sex and Castiel and Dean was sure he wasn't a whole lot better. He was awash in the sheer bliss of more consecutive orgasms than he'd had in over a decade. All he wanted was to drink a gallon of water, eat his body weight in cheeseburgers, and then crash hard for a week.

But Castiel was whimpering.

He had to be practically on fire with all the sex he'd gotten, stomach looking like he was six or seven months pregnant by then, and still no satisfying climax. Dean couldn't rest until that'd been taken care of.

"Time to pay the piper," he told Naomi in a sex-wrecked voice. She'd stood and watched the whole thing, offering direction where needed. "He needs to come, and then you let us go. Like you said."

"If I recall correctly, I told you both of those things would happen when we were finished here," Naomi replied. "And we aren't. Not quite yet."

Sam made a noise that summed up how Dean felt pretty well, an exhausted little groan.

"Pretty sure we're done," he said quietly.

"Yes," Naomi agreed, "but we're not."

Behind them, the door opened.

Dean was drained, maybe more tired than he'd ever been before in his life, but he twisted in his seat, and so did Sam. People were filing in. Angels. Looked like a few dozen, all that were left in Heaven. There was something weird about them, and with the gears of his brain churning slow through the molasses of sex and exhaustion, it took Dean a second to figure it out. They were all in male vessels, all at least in their late teens or older.

"Where are all the chicks?" Dean muttered, half to Sam and half to himself.

"We could alter female vessels," Naomi answered, "but it would take valuable energy that could be better spent on copulation."

That clicked for Dean when they began to approach Castiel. He and Sam both made to get up, practically in unison, but Naomi stopped them with a warning glance. Anger spiraled up through Dean.

"What?" He couldn't keep the mocking tone out of his voice. "You not getting in on the action?"

She glared at him, and there was something almost jealous in the expression as she stiffly replied, "Somebody has to supervise."

Dean just smirked back at her, until Sam squeezed his hand. He glanced at him, and Sam tipped his head in Castiel's direction. _Supervise._ Yeah...they oughta keep an eye on this too, if they couldn't stop it. Too late to get Castiel's blade now.

They were about to watch a whole bunch of angels, Castiel's brothers, gangbang him. After Sam and Dean had used Castiel's hole to its fullest potential, filled him up like a waterbed full of Winchester come. It was obscene, it was filthy, and if Dean's dick hadn't felt like tenderized meat where it was laying limp against one thigh, he probably would've popped yet another stiffy.

The first angel stepped up as they queued, all so neat and orderly. He was in a handsome guy in his twenties, skin the color of one of Sam's caramel-whip chocolate-sprinkle coffee abominations. The second he touched Castiel, wings _bomf_ ed into being behind him with a rush of air, toffee-colored with a golden sheen to them. They spread in obvious pleasure as he unzipped, entered Castiel, started to fuck him. He finished quick, pulled out with a groan.

This was probably the first time he...she...it...whatever, _they_ 'd had sex, and it had to be pretty mindblowing. Dean guessed the one-two punch could be forgiven. Your first orgasm as a holy, pure being of light and you were having it in an ass that'd been practically wrecked by Dean and Sam Winchester.

He wondered what God would think of Naomi doing this.

He and Sam sat there, together, and watched every angel in Heaven save one fuck Castiel. Seemed like their wings appeared soon as they got horny, a ton of shades of black and gray and white and speckled and copper and auburn and, in one case, kind of a dusty rainbow. Castiel's belly just kept getting bigger as they all added their come to the jiggling reservoir inside him. It didn't seem like there was as much coming out of them as there had been Sam and Dean, but there were also a whole lot more of them, so they grew him like crazy.

Castiel squealed, he cried, trilled and chirped and whined and whimpered, and the precome underneath him was a lake by now.

By the time they were all finished, he was enormous, belly button popped out. It looked like he was past due with octuplets and his skin was glowing faintly from the fifty loads of angel come he was carrying, which had to have some Grace to it. It swayed and rippled underneath him, taut but still fluid. Dean _loved_ it with a kind of simple, abject adoration he wasn't gonna think too hard about.

Castiel's hole was finally gaping after so many cocks, officially fucked out. Only gravity and the angle he was at was keeping all the come inside him.

Next to Dean, Sam was hard again, unbelievably enough. He was back down to his normal size, but it was still unfairly huge. Good thing Naomi had had Dean fuck Sam instead of the other way around.

Then again, nobody could say Dean Winchester had ever backed down from a challenge. He was a lot of things, but he wasn't a quitter.

"Is...he gonna be okay?" Sam asked uncertainly, looking from Castiel to Naomi as he broke Dean out of his thoughts.

"He'll grow to many times this size before his pregnancy is completed," she replied. "Don't worry. He can handle it."

Dean looked around at all the angels, still in the room. Swaying slightly on their feet, leaning against the walls, wings out. Looking up at Naomi, he asked, "So, you got any more cocks you wanna stick in him tucked away somewhere? Or are we done here?"

He could have sworn she rolled her eyes, but it happened so quick he could hardly tell. She swirled an index finger, and the cords wrapped around Castiel's cock and balls loosened, then slipped off. He relaxed.

Dean glanced at Sam. Together, they heaved themselves up onto their feet, then walked towards Castiel. Dean gestured Sam towards his hole, went for his cock himself, but they shouldn't have even bothered. Soon as they both touched him, he was off like a shot.

Come splattered the floor, splashing up onto their boots. Castiel's entire body jerked, even with the frame and cords holding him in place. A high-pitched, glass-shattering note Dean recognized as Castiel's true voice filled the room, the other angels keening along with it. Castiel flared a brilliant white, entire body and especially his wings lighting up like a four-hundred-watt lightbulb, and for a second, the air around him was full of bright blue eyes, every single one open wide and rolled back in ecstasy.

Then it was over and the noise and light stopped. Dean blinked red spots out of his vision and took his hands gingerly away from his ears. Castiel was going soft, wings sagging in their bonds, and the rest of him was totally limp. Sam on his heels, Dean went around to his head, which was hanging bonelessly off the end of his neck with his eyes closed. He unbuckled the ball gag, Sam checked Castiel. A couple tense seconds later, he announced, "He's fine. He's fine, he's breathing. Or, uh, the vessel is." He glanced at Dean. "I-it...it knocked him out."

Dean whistled. "Well, son of a bitch. Guess it was a good one, then."

When he saw Naomi approaching Castiel from the back, he automatically tensed, protective instinct rearing up because no amount of sex could ever put that to sleep. He moved until he could see what she was doing, and watched her push the biggest plug he'd ever seen, white marble with some kind of gold symbol stamped on the flanged base, into Castiel's ruined ass, stoppering him up. Soon as it was in, all the knots started undoing themselves, Castiel's wings dropping and limbs dangling soon as he was free. Dean saw pink rings around his joints, but nothing lotion couldn't fix.

"Don't remove that," Naomi instructed, pointing at the plug, "until he's...deflated. We want to ensure it's all taken root."

Dean moved in, along with Sam, to catch Castiel right before he hit the floor gut-first, where he would've landed in the ocean of his own come. He was floppy as a ragdoll, out cold. This was the first time Dean had ever seen anybody pass out from coming too hard, and he was torn between jealousy and concern.

He looked from Castiel's blissed-out, comatose face to Naomi, about to remind her ( _again_ ) about the deal they had and letting them go, but the other angels were moving in around her, gathering behind her and to her sides. As Dean watched, they all started taking each other's hands from the outside in, until they had a hold of Naomi and they were all connected in some kind of ominous divine Red Rover formation.

Sam swallowed. Dean tightened his hold on Castiel.

"Thank you," Naomi told them. "Both of you. All of you. We may have had our differences in the past…" She powered past both of Sam and Dean's sarcastic snorts. "But what you've done here today is...world-changing. Things will be so much better in the future because of this act of trust, of love. You may never fully realize the weight of your contribution, but that's all right." She smiled as the entire flock's eyes started to glow deep in the pupils. "Please take good care of our little brother, until the time comes for us to retrieve the choir."

And then, just like that, they were standing in the bunker's library, Castiel slung between them, him totally naked and the two of them with their dicks out. He was still unconscious, still had his ponderous, glowing come-gut, and still had his wings out, draped across Sam and Dean's backs.

They glanced at each other. Dean spoke first: "I really need a fucking shower."

"Yeah, I uh, I think we all do," Sam agreed. He looked at Castiel. "Him most of all, but. He can't take care of himself like this."

Dean groaned in the back of his throat. He did not want to bathe Mr. "My Orgasms Are So Fucking Good They Knock Me Out" and his heavy, unresponsive angel body by himself. Not when he was this beat. And not thinking too hard about things had worked pretty well for him so far, so…

"Shower's big enough for all of us," he pointed out.

To his surprise, Sam nodded. A second later, looking at Castiel's belly, he tentatively asked, "You think we oughta try and get this crap out of him?"

Dean looked down, too. At the swollen shape of it, the curve, the way it jiggled with Castiel's every breath. A plug up his hole, holding hours' worth of human and angel come inside him to make sure he made as many babies as possible. His stomach was probably where most of the weight they were holding up was coming from. And would be coming from. For the next nine months.

_He'll grow to many times that size before his pregnancy is completed._

"We can talk about that after the shower," Dean decided.

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from "The American Dream" by The Federal Empire.


End file.
